Hoffman's Identity
by Hikaru Koen
Summary: CONTAINS SAW 6 SPOILERS. Slash. Hoffman's identify as the Jigsaw killer is uncovered. He stops at nothing to protect himself and destroy the one person who exposed his secret. No flames please.
1. Chapter 1

**THIS STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS TO SAW 6. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. **I do not own Saw, but I **DO **own Carter and Ward. Enjoy.

* * *

It had been a very long day for Detective Lieutenant Mark Hoffman. It had been a full day since he was left to be executed in his test. He stayed in his messy apartment the entire day, barely moving an inch. Jill had walked away without giving Hoffman a single message or anything. That struck him as _odd._

Hadn't Amanda received a message the second time she was tested? Why wasn't he given one? He contemplated that for a while, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Hoffman's test was a modified reverse bear trap. He obviously knew how to escape it, he is an accomplice after all.

Hoffman sat on his black leather couch, nursing his gashed and swollen face. The reverse bear trap had damn near ripped off the entire side of his face. Blood was _still_ oozing out of his wounds. His wrists were banged up pretty well due to those damn straps.

He had a thick, white washcloth draped over side of his face, it was quickly turning red. He had thick bandages wrapped securely around both wrists, trying to prevent infection. His body ached all over, a headache was starting to sit in.

He felt like shit. He sat there for what felt like an eternity nursing himself back to health. He could've easily went to a hospital, but how would he explain the severity of his condition?

This was a lot easier for him, it cut out all the stress. Well, _some_ of the stress. He still had to deal with the hard reality of his identity being discovered as the Jigsaw killer.

Since "everyone" knew of his identity, he was sure to bring Jill crashing down with him. That bitch had to have been the cause of his identity being known.

Jill was taking everything too calm, too lightly. She had to have had something to do with it. Hoffman knew Jill wanted to completely discontinue John's work, so she tried to dispose of him in any way she saw fit.

Now the only question here was _how_ to get Jill discovered without bringing more heat on himself. That would prove to be a great task to complete. Hoffman was very furious with Jill as of late.

He had always been though, it's not like she didn't have it coming to her. Hell, both Amanda and himself hated the woman. They would do anything John told them to do, but if Jill gave a single order it was completely ignored.

Hoffman completely found himself on the verge of wanting to annihilate Jill Tuck. He absolutely hated the woman. It was her fault he was in this predicament to begin with. It seemed to him like _everything_ was Jill's fault. Hoffman stood up, feeling slightly dizzy.

It felt like the room was spinning just like the carousel trap. He had to sit back down from the realization of him possibly passing out. He lifted up the washcloth, noticing how his blood was finally beginning to dry up.

He removed the cloth, gently touching his face. It hurt like hell, the wound was very deep. He decided to sleep on the couch that night, attempting to move to his bed would be too much trouble.

* * *

Hoffman awoke the next day, his body felt worse then it did the day before. His cuts and bruises were starting to slightly heal. He slowly sat up, feeling the terrorizing effects of sleeping on the couch.

He got to his feet slowly, wiping some blood off his face and heading out the door. Hoffman arrived at one of the many workshops in under ten minutes. This particular workshop served as the home for the most current traps. He quickly walked though the door, heading the in the direction of Jill.

She was sitting in a black chair, watching the monitors of their recent game. The screens were slightly flashing, their subjects were moving quickly about the room. Jill didn't glimpse at Hoffman whenever he entered through the door. She sat there waiting for him to speak.

Hoffman quickly approached her, getting in her face.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!"

Jill glared at Hoffman with pure hatred. She didn't respond at first, she just sat there eyeballing him.

"What in the hell do you want?"

Hoffman seized Jill by the arm, gripping her hard. He grabbed her as hard as the straps she put on him the day before. Hoffman's eyes flashed of hate and murder, he would want nothing more then to see the bitch laying in a pool of her own blood.

"What the fuck do you think I want? You fucking set me up!"

Jill smirked at him, trying to get out of his death grip. She struggled hard against him, wanting to get out of the situation she found herself in. Jill tried to defend herself.

"You set yourself up. You're the one who went against John's wishes. You didn't respect him enough to follow out his legacy the way it was intended it to be. This is all _your_ fault that you were discovered, not mine. You brought this all upon yourself. I had nothing to do with it."

Hoffman's grip increased, his anger rising. He felt the exact same way whenever he murdered Erickson, Perez, and that Asian woman. If only he still had that _knife_ on him. He got up in Jill's face, yelling at her.

"_I'm_ the one who didn't follow John's wishes? YOU'RE the one who told him to stop his work! _I _followed his legacy the same way you followed it. You're the one who got me discovered in the first place! This is ALL your fucking fault you stupid bitch!"

Hoffman hit Jill across the face with his injured hand, it hurt like hell but it was well worth it. His grip increased harder, if possible. Blood was dripping from Jill's mouth, she struggled to get free. Jill kicked Hoffman hard in the legs, causing him to lose his balance for a moment.

Hoffman pushed her hard against the chair she was sitting in, forcing her back. He hit her across the face with his forearm, causing blood to spew out of her mouth. The blood landed on his shirt, spotting it red.

Jill discontinued to struggle, quickly realizing Hoffman had full control over the situation. Hoffman smirked, hitting her once more across the face. He loved watching the blood pour slowly out of her. He loved feeling like he was in total control.

Hoffman roared at her.

"Now it's your turn to be tested bitch!"

All in one motion, Hoffman let go of Jill's arm and swiftly pulled out a syringe stabbing her in the neck. Jill immediately passed out, almost falling out of her chair. Hoffman briefly left the room for a moment to gather up Jill's trap.

* * *

Jill woke up slowly, she glanced around looking for Hoffman. She spied Hoffman leaning against a wall, watching her. Jill peered down at the rest of her body to notice she was in some sort of trap.

There were hooks sticking to either side of Jill's neck. Her arms were suspended to the ceiling, wrapped in two feet of chain. There were thick chains wrapped tightly around Jill's waist and legs.

She was completely immobilized by the weight and width of the chains. She was dangling four feet above the ground, swaying slowly back and forth.

Her neck was dripping spots of blood all over the ground, Hoffman glanced up at her smirking.

"Welcome to your trap Jill. The only way to survive this trap is to free yourself from the very vices that bind you. You must free yourself only using whatever you have available on you, which isn't much. Will you hang there for the world to see, or free yourself from the binds that hold you? Make your choice."

With that being said, Hoffman walked out of the room. Jill shrieked, trying to escape. She tried to swing herself back and forth to fall onto the ground, but to her luck the chains didn't budge. Hoffman tightened the chains as hard as he could.

It surprised Jill that he didn't kill her by wrapping the thick chains around her. Jill continued to struggle with all her might. She suddenly realized she didn't see any sort of clock around her. Did Hoffman set this trap to a certain amount of time?

She glanced around the room rapidly, however she didn't spot a timer. Jill screamed.

"Fuck!"

She tried to pry off the chains around her waist, they didn't move. Jill screamed in agony trying to free herself.

* * *

Hoffman returned home after setting up Jill's trap. He sat on his couch once again, trying to heal his wounds. He figured he had better lay low for a while before going back to the endless work of being a detective.

He heavily sighed, realizing how much easier all of this would have been to handle if his lover; _John Kramer_ was still alive.

After all, John _had_ been identified as the Jigsaw killer before. Hoffman could always escape and hide out from the police like John had done before him. It was fairly simple to do, as long as you knew how to do it.

Hoffman's eyes started to droop, he was exhausted due to the work he was currently doing. He had been though a lot after all. Lighting fire to the FBI tech lab proved to be a task on its own. It was a damn good thing he had properly disposed of any evidence from the tech lab, that would lead back to him to being _identified_ as the Jigsaw killer.

Hoffman smiled to himself for a moment, before being interrupted by a loud knock at the door. He glanced over at the door, trying to ignore it at first. He knew who it was, he was just surprised Jill had escaped so soon. He ignored the knocking for a few more minutes, luckily it went away.

Hoffman smirked, glad at the fact Jill had quickly stopped knocking on his door. A loud crash damn near made Hoffman jump out of his skin. He stared where his black paneled door previously was, now it lay on the ground next to him.

Four FBI agents came rushing through the Hoffman's apartment. He quickly got to his feet, watching them closely. He was both shocked and angry, they had just broke down his door after all.

One tall, middle aged, blond-haired FBI agent approached him, he flashed his badge to Hoffman.

"Detective Hoffman? I'm Special Agent Carter, this is my partner Special Agent Ward. We are here to question you about the deaths of Special Agents Erickson, Perez, and a tech specialist named Amy Sachi."

Hoffman appeared nervous, he quickly changed his facial expression to calm and concerning. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"How can I help you Special Agent Carter?"

Special Agent Ward was a tall brown-haired male in his early 30s. He was expressionless, his eyes wondered around Hoffman's apartment suspiciously. Special Agent Carter held out a plastic forensic bag containing a _bloody knife_.

"Do you recognize _this_ Detective Hoffman?"

Carter held it closer for Hoffman to see. He stared at it almost horrified. That was the very _same_ knife he used to murder Perez and stab Erickson in the throat with.

He had thrown it on the stairs right after murdering Perez with it. He thought it would have burned up in the fire he started. Obviously he was wrong.

Hoffman played it off cool and calm.

"I don't. I have never seen that knife before in my life."

Carter stared in his eyes hard, he peered back at him harder. Carter watched Hoffman, not taking his eyes off him. Carter half-smiled at him, breaking the stare.

"Special Agent Ward and I were closely going over the crime scene to try and find any kind of evidence that we could link back to possible suspects. You already know about Special Agent Peter Strahm. We believe he has an accomplice working under him."

Hoffman avoided eye contact, he merely watched the other officers scurrying around his place.

"And who are your possible accomplices?"

Carter pulled out a small cream-colored notebook. He flipped a few pages quickly locating the page he sought out.

"According to our data there are two suspects."

Hoffman's eyebrows raised, he was surprised to hear the small number of possibilities that he could easily match up to the crime.

"What are the names?"

Carter appeared grim, he closed his notepad for a second.

"Well the reason why we came over here Detective Hoffman was to originally ask you to help us with the case. You have been on the case of the Jigsaw killer since the beginning after all. However, the other reason we came over here is to name you a _suspect_ in the murders."

Sweat began to slowly creep down Hoffman's face. Was his secret beyond the amount of danger he already thought? Was his life as the current Jigsaw killer over?

"_Me_? You actually suspect me?"

Special Agent Carter nodded at him.

"Yes Detective. You are a suspect. You're a suspect because of the previous investigation done by Special Agents Erickson and Perez. They pieced up the puzzle leading everyone to believe that _you_ are the Jigsaw killer and _not_ Special Agent Peter Strahm."

Hoffman appeared to be shaking. He was deathly pale, sweat dripped down his face. He wasn't sure what to say. One thing he knew he had to do was lead them away from his trail and hotly onto one of the other suspects.

Hoffman tried to speak, his words came out almost weak sounding.

"Can I at least know the other suspect's identities?"

Carter flipped back to the page where the suspect's names were listed. He scanned over the names, staring back at Hoffman.

"We originally didn't want to take that risk. We didn't want the suspects to know each other's identity. But, since you are the current leading expert on the case we feel as though we have no choice but to inform you."

Hoffman's eyes grew wide. He was finally getting somewhere. Hoffman swallowed, he was nervous. He was hoping Jill's name was on the list. If it wasn't then he would have to prove to the Agents that Jill was in fact the only current Jigsaw killer.

"The suspects are Ms. Jill Tuck and _you_."

Hoffman was _thrilled_ to hear Jill's name on the list. He stared intently at Carter, watching him carefully.

Hoffman nodded solemnly toward the agent, his mind was racing.

"That's a very interesting list Special Agent. After hearing that single name I know just the person who fits perfectly to the crimes."

Hoffman half-smirked, he appeared very pleased with himself. He knew how to handle the situation now. He was going to soon be in complete control just where he likes it.

The other two FBI agents were walking around apartment, surveying things. Ward came back with a short brown-haired female agent, who was carrying a bloody shirt in her hand.

She gave the shirt to Carter, who examined it for a moment. Ward saw the fresh blood stains on the shirt, pointing them out to Carter. Hoffman nervously watched on, realizing that was the very shirt he wore yesterday during his trap.

Carter held the shirt closer to Hoffman.

"Is this _your_ shirt?"

Hoffman nodded, eyeballing it.

"Yeah, that's my shirt."

Special Agents Carter and Ward looked at each other for a moment. Did the FBI _really _know what Hoffman did, or was Perez just messing with him? He wasn't sure himself anymore. He stood very still, watching everything play out.

This time, it was Ward who asked the question.

"Why is there freshly dried blood on your shirt? Did you have an accident of some sort? Were you attacked?"

Hoffman wasn't sure what to say to the FBI. He couldn't tell them that was the shirt he wore during his "test". He had to think up something very believable and quick.

He pondered this question for a few moments before realizing a correct answer. This would be just the thing he needed at the moment.

Hoffman appeared solemn.

"I was brutally attacked yesterday, as you can tell from my face and that shirt."

Special Agent Ward quickly began taking notes. He began to write down everything Hoffman said.

Ward flipped the page, staring at Hoffman.

"Who attacked you?"

Hoffman gently touched his face, he appeared sad and hurt.

"The number one suspect on your list, _Jill Tuck_."


	2. Chapter 2

Hoffman sat in his office chair, viewing over some last minute paper work he forgot to turn in. He had been so damn busy lately, being interrogated by the FBI didn't help much either. He was glad how he was able to cleanly lead them to Jill.

Hoffman's eyes widened. Speaking of Jill, had she even survived her trap? Her body could be hanging from the ceiling this very moment.

Hoffman was so preoccupied with naming Jill as the Jigsaw killer, he had forgot to check on her possible survival. He was starting to become a lot more careless these past few days.

There was a knock at his door, he instantly looked up to see the expressionless face of Detective Fisk. Hoffman waved him inside, turning his full attention to his guest.

"Hoffman, I just popped in to tell you that you have a visitor waiting for you in the front. Want me to go ahead and bring them here?"

Hoffman was suspicious. There was someone waiting for him? Was it Carter and Ward of the FBI? Why would they contact him so suddenly? He just spoke to them yesterday. Did they already "crack the case"?

Hoffman sat up straight, peering into Fisk's eyes.

"Yeah, go ahead and bring them through."

Fisk nodded, leaving Hoffman alone in his office. Hoffman grabbed onto his gun just in case this was a set up or something. He leaned forward, waiting intently for his "visitor".

A few moments passed slowly by, the waiting was driving Hoffman insane. The office door popped open, revealing a very angry Jill Tuck. She slammed Hoffman's door hard, getting in his face.

"Why in the fuck did you tell the FBI that I attacked you? You're a fucking liar, I never attacked you!"

Hoffman smirked, his hand was still gripping his gun.

"All is fair Jill. YOU shouldn't have put me in a fake ass trap."

Jill shook her head, almost smiling.

"When will you get it through your thick fucking skull that it was John's trap and NOT mine? That trap was your test. I didn't set you up!"

Hoffman got to his feet, getting this time in her face.

"I know for a fuckin' fact that it was a set up! You tried to murder me!"

Jill stood her ground, glaring at him.

"Murder you like you murdered those people? How was that fair Mark? You're a fucking murderer! You know John didn't like murderers!"

Hoffman slowly took his hand off his gun, he stared angrily at Jill.

"Yeah? The last time I checked John was dead."

Jill crossed her arms, she took two feet back from the desk.

"Is that how you honor John's wishes?"

Hoffman scoffed, almost laughing.

"John's wishes? Is that how you honor John's wishes by setting up a bogus trap? And for your info. John NEVERleft instructions on what to do in case we were caught. Did he?"

Jill avoided eye contact. Her breathing increased for a moment or so. She thought about what Hoffman said.

"You shouldn't have been so fucking careless! You wouldn't have been caught if you paid more attention to what was going on in your surroundings. You never were a bright one, were you Mark?"

Hoffman couldn't stand this. No one talked to him like this, especially not Jill Tuck. He stepped out from his desk, grabbing her by the throat.

"Listen to me carefully you fuckin' bitch! I loved John. I did anything John asked me to do. I disobeyed him no more then you did. This isn't all my fucking fault and you know it. That wasn't just my game the other day, that was our game."

He roughly let go of her throat, pushing her back a bit. Jill had tears already starting to form in her eyes. She hatefully stared at him.

"Fuck you!"

Jill flipped him off, storming out of the door. Hoffman grimly stood there for a moment. He hated to admit it, but she had a point. He was becoming too careless here lately. If he had did what she suggested he wouldn't have been caught.

Then again, the only reason why he was caught was because of the Seth Baxter tape. That was way before he met John or got involved in his work. Hoffman heavily sighed, he angrily stared at the door.

Making his way back to his desk, Hoffman opened a drawer pulling out a small piece of paper. He carefully looked at it, tracing it slowly with his thumb. He sat back in his chair, his mind wondering into space.

_It was one year before John Kramer was murdered. Hoffman and Amanda Young were almost constantly taking care of him due to his cancer. John was steadily working hard on his tests, his inventions. Jill was aggravating the living hell out of them for days on end. _

_She had her heart content on stopping John from his work. Amanda and Hoffman were almost constantly giving each other dirty looks, or cussing each other out. The two of them were extremely jealous over the other. It was starting to drive John insane. He had to stop this one way or another. _

_Both of them fought hard for John's love and affection. The only person who ever got any of it was Hoffman. On this particular day, Hoffman and Amanda really tore into each other. They had been verbally fighting all morning like they usually did, until Amanda slipped up._

_Hoffman had made some kind of comment about her being a 'junkie whore', and Amanda lost control. She pushed Hoffman hard against a red brick wall, kneeing him in the balls. Hoffman gasped for breath, his knees would've collapsed under him if it wasn't for Amanda's grip. _

_John had been in the other room when this incident occurred. He came rushing in as quick as his cancerous body would allow it. John stood in the doorway, pissed off. _

"_AMANDA! Let Mark go now."_

_Amanda glanced over at him, her eyes showing a mix of jealously and hate. She slowly backed off him, flipping him off. John went over to his lover's aid, patting him on the arm. Hoffman instantly grabbed his torso, attempting to remain on his feet._

_Hoffman's eyes were watery, he gave a murderous stare to Amanda. John stared back at Amanda, shaking his head. He kissed Hoffman slowly on the lips in front of her, trying to piss her off. He knew how much she hated the fact of the two of them being together. _

_Amanda could never have John, Hoffman loved it. A few days passed successfully after the incident. Hoffman and Amanda had no choice but to work side by side. John usually had to stay inside of the same room with them to make sure it wouldn't occur again. _

_It got later into the day, the sun had settled hours ago. Hoffman and Amanda were steadily at work, messing with John's traps. Amanda was messing with the long straps of it, while Hoffman was messing with some of the higher parts. _

_Amanda kept giving him a death stare. It was almost the same stare she gave to him on a daily basis, however this had more hate packed into it. Hoffman was trying not to say anything to her this time. He was trying to let shit slide for a while, he didn't want John pissed off at him again. _

_Hoffman was doing very well to hold in his anger until Amanda pushed him too far. _

"_Hey Hoffman, how do you like being John's bitch? I bet you LOVE it don't you? You loved being pushed around don't you? You love the control he has over you, it's like you're his slave. He tells you to do ANYTHING and you will. All he USES you for are your muscles, even though I don't see any. Face it, you're his little fucking BITCH and you know it." _

_Hoffman couldn't stand it any longer, Amanda went too far this time. She pushed him too far over the edge, even she knew it. _

_Hoffman quickly turned around, he punched Amanda as hard as he could in the face. Blood instantly erupted from her mouth, spilling onto the floor. Her face made a loud sickening crack as Hoffman's fist contacted with her jaw._

_Amanda grabbed her face, tightly clutching it. Her mouth resembled a bloody fountain, it oozed the foul red liquid from every corner of her face._

_It appeared as though her face was thrown into a blender and set on high. Amanda collapsed onto the ground right in front of the trap they were working on. _

_Hoffman smirked, letting out a low laugh. He had finally succeeded where Amanda had failed. Hoffman felt pretty damn good about himself for showing Amanda up. She deserved it after all. _

_She shouldn't have said all of those hurtful comments. Hoffman smiled to himself, it was a damn good thing John was asleep. If he would have witnessed what had happened, it would've been his ass. _

_If John actually found out, Hoffman would be in so much trouble. Hoffman walked off from his bloody mess of an assault on Amanda. He walked into the other room to go and get his coffee he had left behind. Punching a bitch is thirsty work after all. _

_Hoffman passed John's room quietly, careful not to disturb him. His now semi-warm coffee was sitting on a desk in the room directly beside John's. Hoffman retrieved it hastily, stopping in front of John's room. _

_He slowly peered inside, staring at his peacefully sleeping lover. He smiled to himself, it was nice to see John relaxed. He had been working so hard to try and stop a raging war between the two accomplices. _

_Hoffman appeared in the doorway of the room where he left Amanda laying on the ground. She was sitting upright, her back against their recent trap. She ignored Hoffman, avoiding eye contact. Hoffman scoffed, taking a slip of his coffee. _

"_Have you learned your lesson not to run your filthy mouth off to me? I suggest you shut the fuck up about all this. We don't need John to get worked up over nothing, do we?"_

_Hoffman crossed the room, placing his coffee down on a table toward the wall. He sat in a chair accompanying the table, watching Amanda bleed out. After a few moments of blood loss, Amanda got to her feet. She quietly resumed her working, staying far away from Hoffman. _

Hoffman stared at the now wrinkled piece of paper, he flipped it over revealing a photo. The photo was that of an _older_ man wearing a black zip down hoodie. Eyes traced down the photograph, becoming slightly watery. Hoffman gave a weak smile, staring at John's face.

The picture was taken a few years back during one of John's better days. Hoffman wiped his eyes, tucking the picture back inside of the drawer. He got to his feet, heading for the door.


	3. Chapter 3

The bright morning sky had quickly turned grim. Overhead clouds were slowly flowing past the people roaming the streets.

Rain splattered across the dirty, pollution contaminated windows of the many buildings in the city. Detective Hoffman had already made his way across town, into one of the more deserted areas of the city.

He swiftly got out of his vehicle, heading into the direction of an old, abandoned, wrecked warehouse. Entering the door, he quickly turned on the lights.

In front of him a gruff, messy dark brown-haired man lay unconscious on the floor. He appeared to be in his mid 30s, his life still flourished. The only article of clothing he had on was a tattered pair of blue jeans.

Putting his black gloves on, Hoffman walked over to the man known simply as Guy Hughes. He peered down at him, his wrists were chained to the side of the brick wall.

The man had no idea what was in store for him. Setting up the TV near the victim, Hoffman left the area going into a smaller, dimly lit room.

From there he had the best seat in the house to watch the poor man's game unfold. It wouldn't be long now until he woke up, frightened to death. The man slowly awoke, startled from the shock that his wrists were chained to a side of a wall.

He pulled against the chains, struggling to get free. Trying to stand proved to be an almost impossible feat. He was tightly bound to the wall, his legs however were free.

He stared horrified, he had no clue where he was. He instinctively began screaming for any sort of help, even though there wasn't going to be any.

"Help! Someone help me! There are fucking chains around me! Someone please help me! Help!!"

The man struggled hard trying to escape in any means necessary. He wanted nothing more then to rid the shackles that bound him. Freedom seemed to harshly laugh in his face, there was nothing he could do.

Suddenly, a TV set quickly flickered on. Billy the puppet showed his smiling, white face on the screen. His red, rosy swirled cheeks seemed to mock Guy Hughes, his message lay in his hands.

The puppet rang out.

"Hello Guy, I want to play a game. You find yourself chained tightly to the wall dwelling behind you. You have spent majority of your life chained and locked away. Today, I offer you a chance to finally rid your chains forever. There are four small wooded boxes spread out in front of you. They are exactly two feet from your grasp. There is a single key hidden inside one of the boxes. In order to free yourself you must find the key in order to unlock your shackles. Hurry quickly now, for three of the boxes contain live, poisonous snakes that can kill you in a millisecond. You only have but 60 seconds to in order to complete this task. Will you choose the correct box with the key to free yourself? Or, will you sit there and let the poisonous snakes decide your fate for you? Make your choice."

Freaking out, Guy stared at the mounted clock above the door. He stared at the four brown wooden boxes in front of him, deciding which box to choose. Realizing he didn't have literally the time to decide, the grabbed the second one from the left and opened it.

Inside he discovered a large, black poisonous snake hissing at him. He threw the box as hard as he could across the room. The box loudly smashed on the concrete floor, the snake quickly came out of it leaving the area.

There were 45 seconds left on the clock, it quickly ticked down to the man's impending doom. Guy glanced at the other three boxes, hesitant to choose one. He slowly opened the last box on the right, peering into it.

There he found yet another snake. It lunged at him, hungry to dine on his meaty flesh. Guy tried swatting at the large creature with his hand. He snatched the box up careful to avoid getting bitten, and threw it toward the other smashed brown box.

His time was draining faster then sand, as he absentmindedly grabbed the third box from the right. Opening it, he discovered another one of his black, killer snake friends. Automatically he kicked the box, not caring where it landed. He had but one box remaining.

It was obviously the one that contained the small key he so greedily wanted. He glanced over at the hanging clock above the doorway, checking out his time. He gawked at the ticking reminder, he had less then 13 seconds to open the box and free himself from the shackles.

He ripped the box open, struggling to find the key within. The inside of the box was stuffed to the brim with straw and leaves.

It took him a second to realize the contents of the box were drenched in gasoline. That struck him as odd since his message never mentioned the usage of gasoline.

Rummaging through the box with all his might, he found the key after 7 seconds of looking. That meant he had only 5 seconds to use the key to free himself.

Struggling for his life, he jammed the key into the first shackle. The lock clicked open as the shackle fell to the ground next to him.

He used his free arm, zooming to unlock himself. He had but 2 seconds left to live before it was too late. The clock gloomily ticked down the remaining seconds, his time was up. Guy had the key already inside of the lock right as the timer went off. His game as well as his life was over.

Out of nowhere the wooden box containing the straw and leaves burst into flames, it due to the control switch Hoffman had. The fire shot up Guy's free arm, scorching it to a crisp.

He screamed dropping the key, he tried to rip out his arm socket in a desperate attempt to free himself. Blood oozed from his wrist as he tried to save himself.

The fire spread over the remainder of his body, eating it alive. The hot flames licked across his face, melting it like butter. Within several minutes he was no longer recognizable, his deformed body was charred and covered in ash.

One of Guy Hughes' crisp and blackened arms were still chained to the wall, the other one was melted to the floor. He failed his gruesome trap, his freshly spilled blood and decaying body confirmed that.

His body was covered in hard, black, rotting flesh and dried, caked blood. His face was forever burnt in shock and exhaustion. The body was still rapidly on fire, it would eventually go out on its own. Hoffman emerged from the innards of the small room, zipping his pants up.

It had been a while since he jacked off to the charred, gory remains of his latest victim. It was due to the fact he was so busy with his usual work, this sort of slipped by him. He wasn't going to tell Jill about his own personal games. That was a stupid thought to begin with.

She would find out sooner or later, it was hard to try and cover up a Jigsaw trap. Walking over to his victim, Hoffman pulled out a knife and began cutting the jigsaw piece onto the side of Hughes' burning torso.

He tried make sure that it looked nice and smooth, he wouldn't want the FBI to pin this death directly to him. This time Hoffman made sure to use a knife with surgical steel quality, instead of the other knife he used on Seth Baxter.

It wouldn't really have mattered since the body was burned and black, Hoffman didn't want to take a chance though. By doing that, he could easily eliminate this showing up as his and not Strahm's or Jill's.

Getting into his blue cop car, he pulled swiftly out onto the road heading in the direction of the police station. He rushed to get back to his office, his paper work was already starting to pile up. He drove down the darkened road, his mind starting to wander off.

It wasn't a very safe thing do whenever a person is driving. Hoffman's mind turned back to the night he punched Amanda in the face.

_It was well into the night, beyond 12 am. Amanda had just finished tightening a bolt onto their recent trap, it was now complete. Hoffman sat back in his chair, starting to doze off. He had been careless to even come close to falling asleep whenever Amanda was near him, that was stupid on his part. _

_Amanda noticed Hoffman's closed eyelids, she slowly walked over toward him. She stopped, coming within a few feet of his sleeping body. Tightly gripped in her hand was a screwdriver she was previously working with, she pulled it far away from her body. _

_The screwdriver was now dangerously close to Hoffman's throat, coming to a halt within mere inches. Amanda slowly pulled her arm back, gearing up to slash Hoffman's throat in two. _

_Violently, she thrust her arm out about to strike his throat. She stopped herself, coming an inch short from doing the deed. Hoffman's eyes were open, he hatefully stared at her. She froze in her tracks, not sure of what to do._

_Hoffman grabbed her arm, swatting the screwdriver out of her hand. It landed with a loud clank sound, bouncing once off the ground. He arose to his feet, glaring at Amanda. She slowly backed up, fearing for her life. _

_Hoffman however, walked forward getting right in her face. _

"_Think you can out smart me by trying to kill me with a fuckin' screwdriver? You're lucky John is still asleep, otherwise he'd throw your murderous ass out on the streets where you belong."_

_Amanda stood there, glaring murderously at him. _

"_Oh yeah? I wouldn't talk about me being a murderer Detective. You seem to be just as guilty as I am."_

_Hoffman shot her a dirty look, picking up his cold cup of coffee. _

"_That's funny. At least I didn't purposely set the subject's traps to where they couldn't win them."_

_A loud coughing sound made their eyes shoot to the doorway. They could hear John's cancerous cough from where they were. They knew immediately what that meant, he was awake. How long had John been awake? Had he heard all of their fighting? _

_A loud, raspy voice echoed throughout the building. _

"_Mark! Can you come here real quick?"_

_Hoffman and Amanda instantly stared at each other. Hoffman placed his cold cup of coffee back onto the table, heading for the door. John was sitting up in his bed, waiting for Hoffman's arrival. They eyeballed each other for a moment or two before John spoke. _

"_Mark. Can you do me a favor? I want you to go back inside of the room you were just in. Under the table you will find a tape recorder taped underneath it. The device is set on record. Can you press the stop button and bring it to me?"_

_Hoffman's eyes grew wide, he should've realized John would have done something like this. He's not sure why it surprised him this much. He slowly nodded, heading back toward the room. _

_He entered it, noticing how Amanda was standing next to the trap. She stared at him, watching him very closely. Hoffman got down on his knees, peeling off the tape that bound the recorder. Amanda walked over toward him, trying to see what he is doing. _

"_What's that?"_

_Hoffman held out the tape recorder, pressing the stop button. _

"_A tape recorder, it has been recording us the entire time. John asked me to bring it to him."_

_Amanda stared at the tape recorder for a moment, she bit her lip knowing she was caught. Hoffman returned to John's room, handing over the recorder. John smiled at his lover, putting the device on the table next to him. _

"_Thanks. Have you and Amanda got the trap finished yet?"_

_Hoffman nodded, thinking back before he fell asleep. _

"_Yeah. If you ask me though, I don't think Amanda did it right. I looked at it before I walked in here and it looks like there are some screws missing. I would double check that if I were you."_

_John nodded, taking his words into account. Hoffman got closer to John, he leaned over kissing him tenderly on the lips. They exchanged smiles, kissing each other again. Hands were already roaming each other's bodies. _

_A hand was slowly running down Hoffman's back, while another hand was groping John's chest. Their lips made soft popping noises, their low moans started to increase. John tugged at his lover's jacket, wanting it off. _

_Hoffman struggled to get out of his black zip up jacket, throwing it onto the floor below. John had a huge smile plastered to his face, as his young lover began to remove his black suspenders. Hoffman kissed John roughly on the lips, briefly letting their tongues touch. _

_Both men were already breathing rapidly, their erections already showing. John grabbed Hoffman's torso, pulling him closer. He reached for his belt, quickly unzipping his pants for him. Hoffman's breathing increased, his hands were going under John's covers. _

_A gruff 'ahem' noise was heard coming from the doorway. Both men angrily peered over, noticing Amanda standing there. Her face was twisted in anger and hurt, her eyes not leaving their bodies. John glanced passed his lover, speaking to Amanda. _

"_Amanda! What do you want? Can't you see that Mark and I are busy?"_

_She nods almost mockingly. _

"_Yeah, I just came to tell you that the trap is ready. It's all set to go."_

_John stared at her swollen face for a moment, noticing the dried blood and bruising. He exchanged glances with Hoffman, realizing what happened. _

"_Mark already informed me of the trap, I'll go check it out after I'm finished here. Close the door on your way out."_

_Amanda nods, quickly leaving the room. She wanted nothing to do with what they were about to do in there. Hoffman smiled at John, rubbing his chest. _

"_You realize she just came in here to prevent us from doing anything right? She hates us being together."_

_John nods, his hand was slowly running down Hoffman's back. _

"_Yeah I realize that. She's informed me well of her opinion on this matter. She's quite vocal about it."_

_A smile spread over their faces. They slowly kissed as Hoffman pulled his shirt off, tossing it onto the ground next to his jacket. John pulled Hoffman's pants to his knees, freeing his hard cock. Pushing back the covers, Hoffman grabbed John's erection. _

_He swiftly began pumping him, slowly increasing his speed. A low moan escaped John's lips, he grabbed Hoffman's cock massaging it. Both men let out low moans of pleasure, each one allowing their hands to move faster. _

_Leaning over, Hoffman smothered John with kisses. John greedily kissed back, biting his young lover's lips. A low moan escaped from Hoffman as he pumped him harder and faster. John's hand eased up a bit, as he lay there in complete ecstasy. _

_Hoffman knew John couldn't contain himself, he was close to cumming. Hoffman moved John's hand away from his cock, focusing on getting him off. _

_Hoffman took John's cock into his mouth. His hot breath felt nice, as Hoffman slowly licked down his shaft. John grabbed a handful of his lover's hair, tugging it hard. Sweat ran down John's face, he was slightly trembling._

_Hoffman increased his speed, sucking faster. His tongue slid across the head of John's cock, resting it there for a moment. John tugged his hard harder, moaning very loud. Hoffman took in the full length of his member, deep throating him. _

_By the time Hoffman had done that, John came hard. Hoffman swallowed it, slowly sliding his tongue over John's shaft as he took it out. John smiled, releasing some of Hoffman's hair. _

_John's hand went instantly back to Hoffman's cock, jacking him off fast. He wanted his lover to feel the exact same way he did. A long, low moan escaped Hoffman's mouth. _

_His knees were starting to weaken, he was slightly shaking. His hands gripped John's torso hard, he didn't want to collapse. John's hand moved really fast, he was obviously skilled in this area. _

_They exchanged smiles just as he was about to cum. Hoffman's body moved with the rhythm of John's strong hand. A loud moan flew out of Hoffman's lips, he came all over his lover's hand. _

_Hoffman was red faced, sweat was dripping down his chest. John released him, wiping his hand on his blanket. Hoffman roughly kissed John, their eyes met. They stared at each other, both secretly wishing their night together would never end**. **_

A strong, tightening sensation brought Hoffman back to reality. Suddenly, he realized he was still driving. His eyes darted at the road in front of him, he swerved barely missing a crossing pedestrian. Sweat ran down his face, he wiped it away using the sleeve of his black jacket.

He blinked several times glancing down at his pants, he was hard. Thinking of John usually made him pretty hard, especially here lately. It was all he could do to ease his mind, he was under so much stress. He had to get away from it all, even if it was only escaping with his mind.

He tried to control his rapid breathing, his hands were trembling. Peering out of the windows, he knew exactly where he was. He was about a half a block away from the Gideon Meat Packing building. His memory seemed to drive him here of all places.

The building harbored many memories of his late lover John. He quickly turned his car around, heading in the correct direction of the police station.


	4. Chapter 4

Hoffman arrived at the police station where he worked endless hours at. He stormed inside of the place, heading in the direction of his office. He wanted nothing more then to lock himself inside of his office, not wanting to be disturbed.

Work was quickly over loading him, his mind was drained to the core. His concentration was weakening, his thoughts leaving. Opening the door to his office, he instantly noticed he wasn't alone. Special Agents Carter and Ward were roaming around inside, appearing as though they were investigating.

Hoffman's eyebrows rose, his heart rate steadily increased. Appearing calm, he entered the room staring at the agents. They smiled at him, watching his every move. Hoffman stepped around Carter as he made his way to his desk.

The brown-haired Ward took a seat, pulling out his notepad. Carter closed the office door, standing next to his partner. Silence over took the room for several moments before anyone uttered a word. Hoffman was perplexed at the men's arrival, he wasn't expecting them so soon.

Special Agent Carter cleared his throat, extending his hand to Hoffman.

"Detective Hoffman, it's nice to see you again. Special Agent Ward and I would like to discuss something with you, concerning the murders of Special Agents Erickson and Perez."

Hoffman met Carter's eyes, shaking his hand.

"Of course. How can I be of assistance to you?"

Carter glanced around the office, nudging his partner to speak. A small smile spread over Ward's face. He spoke up, pulling out his notepad.

"Detective, there has been new evidence uncovered concerning the murders. We would like to bring that to your attention. You know of the knife we found at the scene as well as the arson. The arson was caused by someone drenching the tech lab with gasoline."

Hoffman nodded, making a mental note to clean thoroughly up after himself next time. He knew the fire would be linked to arson, if only he had an easier way to burn a building down.

Special Agent Carter jumped in on revealing their data to Hoffman, he cleared his throat speaking freely.

"We also discovered a security tape of Ms. Tuck delivering a thick package to none other then Ms. Pamela Jenkins. As you know Ms. Jenkins is a lead investigator for a major newspaper. Upon further investigation, we discovered that Ms. Tuck was trying to set someone up as the accomplice to the known Jigsaw killer, Peter Strahm. Unfortunately, the information she gave to Ms. Jenkins wasn't accurate with our data."

Ward took that pause as his turn to fill in the rest of the details. He firmly nodded, smiling at Carter.

"As Carter pointed out, we did find the knife on the stairs. To our recent discovery we were able to get a print off the knife. Our team worked hard to identify it, and it was successfully identified. We now know the people behind the Jigsaw murders, none other then Special Agent Peter Strahm and his accomplice Jill Tuck."

Detective Hoffman swallowed hard, he knew what was going to happen next. He knew the knife was going to do some major damage, and it did. Hoffman stared hard into the agent's eyes, watching him carefully.

He was very proud of himself of all his hard work at naming Jill as Strahm's accomplice. Intense curiosity struck deeply into Hoffman's heart. He couldn't help himself, he desperately wanted to know what information Jill gave to Pamela.

"Concerning the package Jill gave to Ms. Jenkins, what information was handed over?"

Special Agent Ward carefully flipped through his notepad, he scanned a few pages before answering Hoffman's question.

"The package contained a video tape of you and John Kramer discussing the workings of a 'recent trap'. The two of you discuss the mechanisms of the correct way to wire it or something. You both go into grave detail for a while, mentioning a 'test subject', then kiss right before the tape shuts off."

Redness briefly spread over Hoffman's face, he instantly avoids eye contact. He was silent for a second, pondering about his latest question.

"You said that the evidence wasn't accurate to your data. What do you mean by that?"

Carter quickly grabbed Ward's notebook. Flipping to the back of it, he began to read out loud.

"Detective Hoffman and John Kramer's discussion seemed altered. Further analysis of the tape concluded that the accusation made by said party was found to be inaccurate to the investigation. John Kramer was pronounced legally dead by the time the tape had to have been recorded. Further investigation into the tape points that someone had altered the footage to their own personal gain. That said person is in fact, Jill Tuck."

A strong, gleeful smile spread over Hoffman's face. He was clearly out of hot water now. His hard work had finally paid off, he successfully linked Jill to being the sole accomplice to Strahm. Hoffman however, was impressed by Jill's desperation to alter a home movie.

He never should have shown her how to do that to begin with. He felt stupid that his own trick almost cost him his life and career. He lightly sighed, his stress was starting to leave.

Special Agents Carter and Ward arose to their feet, staring intently at the man across from them.

Carter slid the notebook into his coat pocket, he briefly glanced over at Ward.

"Detective Hoffman. Speaking on behalf of the FBI, we would like to say thank you. We owe you our thanks for taking us down the correct path of the two Jigsaw killers. We couldn't have done it without you by our side. To show you our thanks, our office is hosting a dinner party. This is our way to congratulate you on uncovering the truth behind this great mystery."

Special Agent Ward extended his hand to Hoffman. They shook hard, smiling at one another. Carter joined in on the hand shaking, as he gave his own warm smile to Hoffman.

"Thank you very much. It was my honor to help the FBI track down Peter Strahm and Jill Tuck for their misdeeds to society. I'm glad that justice will finally be served."


	5. Chapter 5

Two long days passed as Detective Hoffman was on his way to the FBI dinner party. He originally didn't want to attend the ass kissing fest. Deciding it would be best if he did, Hoffman arrived at the ritzy hotel party. He was dressed to kill, his black tuxedo was expensive and flashy looking.

Entering the building, Hoffman could tell they went all out for it. The hotel lobby was decked out in white and black. The place resembled some elegant banquet event. People from all walks of life dressed lively for the occasion.

There were diamonds strung tightly around the necks of Special Agent's wives and girlfriends. The evening seemed to promise a grand time. Detective Hoffman quickly walked into the main dining hall of the hotel.

Glancing around he instantly noticed Carter and Ward sitting at a table, drinking wine. Ward motioned Hoffman toward them, offering him a seat. Hoffman nodded his thanks as he sat down next to Carter.

"It's great to see made it Detective. We were awaiting your arrival."

Ward nodded toward him, taking a large sip of his red wine.

"We would be honored if you were to make a speech tonight. People haven't stopped buzzing about the news."

Hoffman politely nodded, realizing he had no idea what he was going to say.

"I would be honored to speak on behalf of my department on their hard work. It's not everyday the _correct_ Jigsaw killers have been identified."

Carter and Ward smiled at him, each one shaking his hand. A fake, small smile spread over Hoffman's face.

"Tell me Special Agents, have you captured Jill Tuck yet? I know everyone has been talking about it, but have you actually captured her?"

Tension leaked through the room like nerve gas. The atmosphere became tense and hot. Carter and Ward didn't speak for a moment, their facial expressions appearing grim. They avoided eye contact with Hoffman for a moment, hoping the tension would ease up.

Carter spoke up.

"Well, that's where you come in Hoffman. You see, we did in fact attempt to capture Ms. Tuck but somehow she escaped."

Hoffman's eyebrows rose.

"Escaped? What do you mean she escaped?"

Carter cleared his throat, pouring back his wine.

"We tracked her down and began to arrest her. She was right in front of us, until the next thing we knew she vanished. We were perplexed as hell, we have never seen anything like that. We were hoping that you would capture her, since you are the one who correctly identified her in the first place."

Hoffman angrily got to his feet, his eyes hatefully traced the men in front of him.

"You mean you're just now telling me this?"

Both agents nodded, they waited eagerly for him to continue. A sly, evil smile spread over Hoffman's face.

"Alright. You've got my word that I will capture Jill Tuck. I have an idea of where she went off to. Excuse me."

With that being said, Detective Lieutenant Mark Hoffman left the two men baffled. They stared curiously at each other, watching Hoffman saunter off. Ward cleared his throat, gulping down the rest of his wine.

"Does this mean he's not making his speech?"

Driving as fast as he could, Hoffman arrived at the current warehouse where Jigsaw's games were unfolding. This was the exact same place where Hoffman's "game" was held at. Hurrying inside, Hoffman raced into the dimly lit monitor room.

Lazily sitting in a chair in front of him was none other then Jill Tuck. She sat there quietly, her eyes glued intently to the set of monitors in front of her. The many screens showed their latest test subjects trying to fight for survival.

Pamela Jenkins lay dead, drenched in a pool of her own blood. She failed her test a mere hour ago, her desperation to escape got the better of her. Jill appeared hateful, her arms were tightly crossed against her chest.

Hoffman slammed the door roughly behind him making his presence known. Slowly turning around, Hoffman could harshly see the anger written on her face. She glared hatefully at him, watching him intently.

Hoffman's feet remained firmly were he stood, not moving an inch. Jill silently got to her feet, her eyes not leaving Hoffman's figure. The silence was finally shattered as the Detective harshly spoke.

"Having fun hiding out from the FBI?"

A disturbed, smile spread over Jill's face.

"Yeah, how about you? Did you come to finally 'bring me in'? You don't have the balls to be a man and turn yourself in do you?"

Hoffman scoffed at her statement. How could she even think to bring something like that up?

"Turning myself in? What about you Jill, huh? Why haven't you turned yourself in? The FBI is on your trail. I heard you gave them the slip. What did you do hide in a dumpster where your ass belongs?"

Jill rolled her eyes, glancing away from him. She knew her time was quickly running out. Stalling was her only option.

"I've done nothing wrong. What are you going to do Mark? You going to arrest me and become the hero once again?"

Hoffman slowly placed his hand on his gun, waiting for Jill to make a move.

"Arrest you? You actually think I'm going to arrest you? What gave you that idea?"

A puzzled smirk crossed Jill's face. She stood her ground against Hoffman, noticing his hand on his gun.

"Are you going to shoot me instead? Yeah I see where your hand is at. That's very typical of you Mark, turning to killing as your only option. What ever happened to John's games? Did those ever cross your mind first? Here I thought you were John's heir, his legacy."

Hoffman brought his gun out into the open, bringing it to his side. His eyes flashed of hatred and murder.

"John's games are exactly what happened to him, dead. This is no longer John's game, this is _my_ game. I make the games and I create the rules. I'm controlling my own legacy, far from that of John's work. I was his sole heir to everything he had. No more games for you Jill, that proved to be stupid on my part."

Hoffman began pacing the room back and forth, his eyes never leaving his gun.

"You only got that box so you could deliver it to me. Admit it Jill, you set me up so you could successfully end John's work forever. You even asked him to end his work for you, only John wasn't stupid enough to listen to you to begin with. I am John's legacy, future, and heir."

His face was hardened in frustration, exhaustion, and murder.

"He was my boyfriend and that makes all of this mine. You did the only thing you could do to get rid of me, you tried to murder me. You knew I wrote that letter to Amanda which led to her death. I couldn't have Amanda come between me and John any longer."

Walking slowly back and forth, he moved the gun in his hand, playing with the trigger.

"He was mine, NOT hers. After you discovered what I had done, you acted on your own accord trying to murder me so John's work would _never_ continue again. You set up Amanda's old reverse bear trap trying to execute me."

Hoffman's long speech continued, his eyes dangerously darting back and forth between his gun and Jill.

"You failed to do the one thing John's real trap would have done, allowed me to live. It was obviously your trap. I had no known time limit or a message. You fucked up and you're the only one to blame."

Hoffman brought his gun mid-level to his chest, aiming at Jill. He had tears trailing down his face, his eyes were red. All of this talk about John made him emotional. Jill stared at him silently for a minute, watching his gun.

She had no idea what to say to him. He was completely correct. She really had tried to murder him. She even uttered, "game over" to signal his demise. Hoffman had concluded every last detail of Jill's plan.

She thought she was smart to do so, apparently she was wrong. Slowly, Hoffman got closer to Jill. He stopped within several feet between the two of them. Jill's eyes were watery, she knew her time left on this world was over.

Her eyes begged for her life, even though she knew it was pointless. A small smirk spread over Hoffman's deranged face, his eyes were dark and menacing. Out of nowhere he pulled out a syringe, stabbing her directly in the side of her neck.


	6. Chapter 6

Hoffman drug Jill across the room, exiting through the door. He took her to a smaller room, located five rooms over from the one they just left. It was very dark inside Jill's new chamber, the lights were barely flickering.

He determined it would be a special trap to match her astray lifestyle and meddlesome ways. Hoffman slung Jill's unconscious body against a dingy, brick wall. He walked to the middle of the room, preparing her trap.

It was a simple trap all together, although it appeared tricky and complex. Hoffman didn't have to give it much thought as to what her trap would be. A long, steel table was placed in the center of the room.

There were sharp, silver spikes drilled onto the top of the table. There were shackles on all sides of the table. The sturdy legs were drilled firmly down onto the concrete floor, holding it in place.

He grabbed Jill up, laying her face up on the gruesome appearing table. He strapped her in, staring over to the lone TV set that sat in the corner. He smirked, glancing up at the ceiling at the two suspended shotguns and knives.

He exited the room, slamming the door roughly behind him. Jill awoke, startled and confused. Her eyes darted from either side of the table viewing her shackled up arms and legs. Blood seeped out of her back, the spikes were driven even further into her torso.

A loud scream shot out of her mouth, she was quickly losing blood. The spikes were unforgiving as they pierced her body like a shish kebab. Her neck craned slightly backward, staring up at the two shotguns pointed directly at her head.

The knives were suspended over her entire torso, dangling above her in a mocking way. Jill struggled against the straps, pulling as hard as she could. The straps didn't budge, they remained firmly in place just as Hoffman had tied them. A serge of power shot through the room like a lightning bolt, causing the TV to kick on.

Billy the puppet echoed out, speaking in Hoffman's voice.

"Hello Jill, I want to play a game."

Her eyes scanned the room, finding the TV set in the corner. Her eyes were glued to it, her breathing increased.

"The situation you find yourself in describes your life of stabbing people in the back, now it's your turn to be stabbed. There are knives and shotguns hanging above your body. Your arms and legs are bound tightly to the spiked table, unable to move. The only way to survive your trap is to avoid all the rounds of the shotguns and the knives above. If you successfully dodge everything you will be granted your life. However, if you fail your life will become mine. Will you lay there in a pool of your own blood and wait to be demolished, or will you fight back and survive? Make your choice."

The clock in front of her on the wall counted down from 60 seconds. Jill screamed, her voice starting to fail her.

Struggling, she jerked at her arm restraints trying to break free. The shotguns acted on their own, their barrels slowly turning. The first shot rang out, almost catching Jill in the side of her stomach.

Her screamed loudly.

"Fuck!"

Her body moved violently as the second shot grazed the side of her face, causing blood to leak out. Her arms thrashed hard, fighting for her life. 50 seconds remained on the clock, it ticked slowly down to her fate. Jill's eyes instantly widened as she saw one of the three knives swing slowly back and forth.

The knife suddenly dropped, landing directly next to the side of her leg. Panicking, Jill kicked her legs out causing the knife to drop, clanging on the ground. It was now time for the second shotgun to violently go off.

It barely missed Jill's arm by a mere half an inch. She struggled hard, panicking trying to save herself. Sweat was dripping from her face, her throat was sticky and dry. The clock ticked down hard, the time becoming scarce. Jill glanced over at her ticking friend, it read 41 seconds. Her time was quickly draining, she was starting to freak out.

There were two knives remaining above her, slowly swinging back and forth. The very sharp blade on the end fell from the sky, hitting Jill directly in the throat. She gasped for breath, blood was pouring out of her. The devastating final shot remained, the gun was aimed exactly where her skull was.

A loud, deafening shot rang out through the entire warehouse. The bullet easily slid through Jill's temple, spilling her blood where she lay. Blood dripped slowly from her mouth, her eyes were beginning to glaze over. The final knife dangled in front of her as if watching her slowly die.

The blade struck Jill in her stomach, deeply embedded itself into her. Immediately her blood gushed and poured from her wounds. It leaked on the floor, adding more the sickening red pool beneath the table. The clock continued to tick down the final moments of Jill's life.

Her struggle was finally over, her movements ceased as her breathing became slower and slower. Suddenly, the door jolted open revealing Hoffman standing there watching on. He crossed the room, his gun clutched firmly in his hand.

He swiftly stepped over the red pool of blood, being very careful not to get any on his black shoes. Jill clung onto her life, desperation filling her entire body. Her eyes met those of Hoffman's, they stared at each other for a moment. He smirked as he watched the life drain out of Jill's entire body. Her eyes closed for the final time, her deep breath being her last.

"Game over."

Jill Tuck lay on the spiked table covered in a thick, red pool of her own blood. The slimy red liquid oozed out of her like water. Her shirt was spotted red, the fresh smell of blood stunk up the building. Her expression was twisted in a mess agony and desperation.

Hoffman stood over the body, glaring down at her. His head turned to the side, watching the blood slowly creep out of her. He put his gun away, slipping on his black gloves. He left her death stricken, blood soaked body where it lay.

He slowly left the room, closing the door on his way out. He strolled off to the monitor room, taking a break from his long day of work.

* * *

Detective Hoffman arrived at the police station where he worked nonstop hours. The FBI contacted him early that morning, requesting for an emergency meeting to be held. He walked inside of his usually empty office, noticing Special Agents Ward and Carter already making themselves at home.

They greeted Hoffman, each shaking his hand. Hoffman took his usual spot behind his desk, waiting intently for the agents to explain this impromptu meeting.

Special Agent Carter sat down in front of Hoffman, nodding at him.

"Detective Hoffman. We have come to inform you that our agents have not yet found Ms. Jill Tuck. We were hoping that you had already found her."

Hoffman grimly shook his head, he avoided eye contact acting as though the entire ordeal greatly upset him.

"I haven't found her. I looked for days on end trying to capture her. I had no luck."

Ward slammed his fist on the desk in front of him, it slightly shook. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, he stared at Hoffman.

"That is very unfortunate to hear Detective. Our agents will be on the clock 24/7 in the search for Ms. Tuck. We will not stop until we find her."

Hoffman nodded at Ward, his mind wondering elsewhere. He was slightly intrigued to hear about their pointless, nonstop search. It gave him a little bit more time to completely dispose of her body. A small, undetected smile spread over Hoffman's face.

The filthy pigs he purchased for this special occasion would be arriving within a few days. Jill's body was nicely decomposing in a black, plastic garbage bag inside of his current warehouse. All he had to do now was feed her blood soaked remains to the pigs.

Afterward he would have to completely dispose of the pigs themselves. He wanted to cover his ass this time, making sure not a single trace of Jill Tuck would ever be found. In a week Hoffman would tell the FBI that he caught Jill Tuck fleeing the country. He would go into grave detail as how he barely missed capturing her.

Quickly, Detective Lieutenant Mark Hoffman got to his feet. He shook the agent's hands, muttering to them.

"One day soon, true justice will be served."

* * *

The End.


End file.
